


Destiel Shorts

by Sobredenatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Friendship/Love, Love, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sobredenatural/pseuds/Sobredenatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ѕтσяιєѕ σƒ тнє αηgєℓ αη∂ тнє яιgнтєσυѕ мαη  ♥</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cas the Piemaker

Sam grunted with annoyance as he attempted to scrape the raw dough out from his under his stubby fingernails. Constantly having to making salt-free pies for his brother was getting on his last nerves. Not to mention, Dean's daily whining made Sam even more desperate to cure the demonic side that was residing within him.

Sam dropped the wad of dough in his hands and closed his eyes, hoping to let his anger subside. "Please make someone else do this," he quietly prayed.

He was about to give up baking when the familiar sound of flapping wings echoed from outside the kitchen door. Seconds later, the trench coat wearing angel poked his head inside, curious to what Sam was doing. "Hey, Cas," Sam said.

"Hello, Sam. I heard your prayer and I came to help."

Sam burst into a fit of laughter. The last thing he had expected was for his prayer to be taken seriously, but then again the boys did seem to have their own personal angel on their shoulders.

Cas narrowed his eyes, portraying his signature confused look. "I don't understand. Did I say something amusing?"

Still laughing, Sam brushed off the excess dough on his apron before patting his friend on the back. "No, just have fun." Sam exited the kitchen, leaving Cas behind to begin making his own batch of pies for the ever so cranky Dean. Part of him felt bad as he knew that the angel was sensitive. Dean's inevitable rejection would tear him apart. So far, Dean had not accepted even one of Sam's pies. Each time, Dean would either dramatically spit out chunks directly towards his face or cuss him out using every swear word ever brought into existence. 

 

"Hey Sammy!" Dean called out like a child urgently trying to gain their mother's attention. Sam rolled his eyes before turning his head to face his brother who was lounging on the couch with his eyes closed. "Clap on," his eyes shot open. "Clap off," where his apple green eyes used to be, there was now eyes black as the night. 

Sam frowned, "Not funny, Dean."

Dean shrugged, then resumed reading the latest issue of Busty Asian Beauties. "I thought it was hilarious," he murmured dejectedly.

Out of nowhere, Cas appeared. His suit was splattered red with fruit entrails and dusted with flour. In his hands was a burnt cherry pie. "Hello, Dean," Cas greeted as he held out the pie towards Dean who had immediately sat up and flicked his eyes back to their normal green state.

Sam prepared for Dean to erupt in a flurry of hot rage, but instead Dean smiled up at the angel kindly. "Thanks Cas," he praised, taking the pie. As he set the pastry down on the coffee table, Castiel handed Dean his cutlery and awaited his approval with clear anxiousness.

When Dean took his first bite, Sam saw a quick flash of disgust, though it was gone before Cas could see. Trying hard not to upchuck, Dean swallowed slowly. "Wow Cas, this is great," he lied, though not without good intention. At his comment, Cas smiled so bright Sam thought Cas' grace was seeping through his skin. 

"But next time," Cas' face fell. "You got to show me how you made it," Dean continued, followed by another toothy grin from Cas.

 

It had been only two days since Cas had made Dean's pie. Sam was sitting alone conducting his own research on a possible wendigo case in Minnesota. He wondered where the two had gone off to until he heard the soft sound of scuffling coming from the kitchen. As quiet as a mouse, Sam went to investigate. 

He peeked through the doors, expecting something he wasn't quite sure he wanted to see. Instead, Dean and Cas were simply making a pie together. Sam breathed a sigh of relief, ready to leave, though boredom drove him to stay and spy on the two. 

Cas kneaded his chunk of dough roughly, accidentally causing a cloud of flour to fly upwards towards Dean's face. Cas' eyes grew round as he looked at Dean, clearly scared that his demonic nature would resurface. When Dean didn't respond, Castiel hastily wiped away a portion of the flour, although a large amount was still present his skin.

Dean's eyes fluttered open, then he smirked deviously before sending his own handful of flour showering down on the angel. "Gotcha!" he snickered. Castiel grimaced and then chaos broke out all through the room. Countless particles of white were floating all around them, transforming the kitchen into a snow-like wonderland. 

While this was Heaven for Dean and Cas, it was most unfortunate for Sam who was now hardly able to see a thing. When the clouds of flour began to clear, Sam couldn't help but smile. Dean and Cas were both covered head to toe in white as they shared a powdery kiss.


	2. The Weeping Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Supernatural/Doctor Who AU

The Weeping Angels, the loneliest creatures in the universe. It was once said that they are as old as time itself, though no one quite knows whether that is fact or fiction. In reality, not only does it remain a mystery as to when they came to be, but also from where they came from. Many have tried to discover the truth behind the angels, yet none have been successful. Unless you count an old story whose author was lost with time. A story about an angel whose grief turned him into one of the most feared creatures this world has ever known. 

 

There once was an angel who fell from Heaven and crashed upon Earth. He was lost and confused, all traces of hope long since forgotten. Everything he had was gone and all that he was left with was a hollow shell of what he once was. That is until the angel met the hunter. When the two were together, the angel finally began to feel whole again.

Consumed in his happiness, things seemed to stand still for the angel. Unbeknownst to him, the world kept on turning. Those he had come to identify as family were slowly withering and dying, yet unlike them, the angel's youthful features never left. His curse of immortality hung dauntingly in the air, his every waking minute felt like agony as he watched his friends begin to grow old without him. 

But all was okay. As his friends began to leave him and return to the angel's former home, memories began to fill his mind of the paradise they would soon arrive at. After all the horrors his friends had seen, at last they would find peace and that made the angel very happy.

When all but one had gone, the angel still had his hunter by his side. He prayed to go back home when his hunter's time ran out, but all his prayers went unanswered. One early morning, the hunter fell sick. The angel stayed by his side until the time came for the hunter to take his last raggedy breath. Leaving behind the angel who was now completely alone once more. 

Driven mad by grief, the angel stayed and wept at the hunter's grave day and night. He did not dare leave in case his hunter came back. But, days soon turned to months and those months became years and in that time, not once did the angel move. After centuries of keeping vigil, the angel began to turn to stone, forever waiting for his hunter's return. 

As his grace began to wear thin, the angel fed on the potential energy of those around him. He had no intention to kill them, so instead he sent them back in time where they could still live out their lives. The angel did not want the people to suffer as even though his body was stone, his heart was still warm with compassion for the humans. 

While even more years came to pass, the angel stayed put. Although, he sent out others to scour the globe for his lost hunter in hope that one day they would be reunited. They searched far and wide across all of time and space, but he had vanished. In one last desperate attempt, the angel sent his comrades off into alternate dimensions, positive that they would find something. Even if that something was hope. 

To this day, the angel still hangs over the hunter's grave, waiting for his return.Those who visit the burial ground where the hunter is laid to rest always ponder the story behind the weeping angel. Even if they knew the truth, it seems they would never be able to fathom the pain and loneliness the angel has felt for so many centuries. But, the angel does not mind waiting as long as he will see his beloved hunter again. 

That is the story of the angel who fell and found something more precious than he could imagine. The love he felt for the hunter hurt, but that's what love does. It can destroy you, though you wouldn't; have it any other way. Even the angel who was prepared to wait an eternity, would never go back. Not even if he could.


	3. Burnt

"Dean!" A gruff voice called out. The sound echoed down the dark corridors amplifying the volume by ten times. The desperation in his tone was obvious and only added to the suspense.

"Cas!" Dean responded, finally coming face to face with the angel.

Cas breathed a sigh of relief, "I thought you were dead..."

Dean wore a gentle smile that made Cas feel as if he were back in heaven itself. "I'm not going anywhere," He murmured. He placed a hand on Cas' cheek, making the angel quickly stiffen in alarm.

"Dean? What are you do-" Cas didn't get a chance to finish, as in that moment, Dean's lips collided with Cas' own, creating a moment of pure ecstasy and shock for both of them. That was until Cas felt the sharp pain of another force making it's way deep into his skin.

Cas broke away from Dean. Betrayal stung at his heart like the points of thousands upon thousands of sharpened knives. "No..."

Eyes as black as the night were now staring down at Cas as he slowly began to crumple to the floor. The demon posing as his beloved Dean laughed manically. "You call yourself an angel? You're nothing but a love drunk fool. You're an idiot to think someone or even something could love something like you." He spat.

Castiel desperately attempted to hang onto Dean as the life slowly began to fade from his blue orbs. His arm shot up, shielding the black eyed reminder that Dean was gone, from his vision.

Still cackling, Dean grasped Cas' upper arms to steady him. "Happy now, angel?" He mocked.

In that moment, Dean felt a strange presence overcome him. It seemed like nothing, though he couldn't shake the feeling that it was most definitely important. He chose to ignore it, becoming more focused on purely enjoying the moment as Cas struggled to cling onto what little life he had.

"Goodbye, Dean." At last, a blinding light erupted from Castiel, enveloping the room in celestial white. Dean clamped his eyes tight as the the full force of a dying angel struck him. He began to scream as a burning sensation covered his back in the very places he felt the presence and fell to the ground along with Castiel.

The light faded and Dean opened his eyes to see Cas' limp body laying beside him, a single tear falling down his cheek. Then, Dean noticed something peculiar. After encountering the many angels he had in his time, Dean knew well enough that after their death, it's wings would burn themselves into the ground in which they fell, but Cas seemed to be wingless. He figured the angel had simply been clipped after his many infractions with those above.

Standing up, Dean cringed at the sight of the body. For a quick moment, he felt the sharp pang of grief. He quickly shook it away and began to make his way out of the building. Still curious about the the sensation he felt on his back, Dean stopped beside a glass pane, coated in a thick layer of dust and then wiped away the dirt with the sleeve of his jacket.

Dean swiftly pulled his shirt and jacket from his body and glanced behind to see into the reflection. Across Dean's back, the jet black imprints of wings were etched into his skin. He tried his hardest to scratch away the marks, but Dean soon realized they were permanent. A constant reminder of what he did to his angel in a trench coat.


	4. Perdition

"Sam Karabin, I guess it's about time you and I had a little chat. Don't ya think?" the rugged voice of the torturer sneered as a new victim came into his grasp. He couldn't shake the feeling that he knew that name from somewhere, but nothing ever clicked. Sam...Sam...Sam... He kept repeating the same name in his mind, over and over, though it always seemed to lead to nothing. 

Dean pushed it to the back of his mind. He had work to do. Sam Karabin had been a wealthy banker in his life on Earth. Well, more like a wealthy fraud. Mr. Karabin had stolen, cheated, and bribed his way through life and now look where he ended up. Not only that, but after all that, Mr. Karabin turned to drinking and that of course, that led to violence. Violence of which his children got the most of. 

Dean didn't feel bad. He knew very well of the horrors a violent father. Through this, Dean convinced himself what he was doing was right. This man didn't deserve his mercy. Once Dean selected his weapon of choice, he neared the man in chains. He could see the clear terror shimmering in Sam's eyes and for a moment, Dean almost dropped the blade in his hands. Although, he snapped out of his trance almost instantaneously and began to go to work. 

Just then, the surroundings erupted into a blinding white light. Dean quickly turned and shielded his eyes, but unlike him, Sam wasn't so fortunate. The man screamed in agony, making Dean's imagination run wild at what could be emitting the rays. At last, the light subsided. Dean tucked his arm away from his eyes and peered at Sam. Where his eyes used to be, there was nothing but charred, empty sockets left, making Dean cringe in disgust. He'd seen many vile things in his time spent in Hell, but it had almost always been done by him. Seeing it from another perspective, definitely change his view. 

Then, Dean spun around towards the entrance. There, stood a man in a tan trench coat. His eyes were a brilliant kaleidoscope of aqua and atop his head was a shaggy tangle of dark brown hair. "Who are you?" Dean demanded, holding out his blade in defense. 

"I am Castiel and I have come to rescue you." 

 

"Remember Castiel, get in, get out. You got it?" Cas nodded in response to Zacharia's order. He knew his trip downstairs probably wouldn't be that simple, but he agreed nonetheless. Even so, Castiel would never want to stay there any longer than he had to. Why Zacharia chose him for this job, Cas did not know.

The next thing he knew, Cas was standing on what looked to be an abandoned street. However, this was no ordinary street. Immediately, his nose was attacked by the stench of rotting flesh. The buildings that stood on either side were collapsed into ruin almost as if a great fire had arose and claimed them as its own. As well as that, the air felt heavy and dank as it swirled around in a burgundy mist, making Castiel's chest tighten as he struggled to intake even the littlest breath. Then of course, was the screams. Loud and full of pain, each made him uneasy and slightly sick, but Cas kept on moving forward. He knew the Winchester boy had to be nearby, the purity of his soul pulsated almost like a radar in this everlasting pit of despair. 

Castiel reached the end of the road and halted abruptly. Below him, was what seemed to be an everlasting pit. Millions of arms were visible atop the mist, each desperately clawing at open air. Cas closed his eyes and took a step back from the ledge. "Get in, get out." Zacharia's words repeated in his head. Castiel let loose a breath he hadn't released he had been holding in, then turned away, his mind set on one objective. 

Rescue Dean Winchester.

 

What seemed like an eternity later, Castiel was just steps away from the door. The entryway was latched securely with demonic bolts even he would have trouble cracking. Cas stepped forward, but was stopped by a pair of sinister black eyes. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing down here?" a female demon with chocolate brown hair hissed. 

An icy Steele slid out from Castiel's sleeve. Cas gripped the Angel Blade tightly in his hand and then he was swinging. The demon slid to the side and dodged his attack before sending Castiel flying towards the opposite wall. Castiel stood, wiped the blood from his now dripping nose, and adjusted his grip on his blade. Before him was yet another demon. This one's eyes, however, glowed milky white in the dimness. His features were striking and his clothes were caked in blood; undoubtedly not his own. 

"He's trying to reach Winchester," The she-demon reported.

The white-eyed one simply smiled a crooked grin that sent shivers crawling down Castiel's spine. He cocked his head, "Then let him." His voice was almost nasally, but nothing less than terrifying. 

"Alistair, let me take him!" she complained. 

"Go ahead try, Lamia." the one called Alistair replied with a wave of his hand. 

She launched herself forward, arms raised, though Castiel was quicker. Before Lamia even got the chance to lay a finger on Cas, the sharp tip of and Angel Blade was penetrating her chest. A golden light flickered within her and then Lamia fell to the ground in a limp heap. Alistair clapped, "Nice work, Angel. Bu you're gonna have to do a lot better than that." 

Castiel flipped his blade and waited for Alistair to make his first move. The demon raised his arms to begin, yet Cas was faster. He slid forward, blade pointing outwards and made an attempt to lodge his blade in the demon's chest. Although before doing so, Alistair flung Castiel backwards, making him hit the ground hard. Castiel pushed himself up and didn't even both to wipe away the blood this time. Instead, he charged, threw Alistairs outstretched arms to the side and raised his blade high in the air. 

Alistair smirked, "So close." Then, a pool of black smoke erupted from his mouth as his demonic entity left his vessel. The body collapsed, leaving Cas to ponder if the human was still alive, though he already knew the answer. Castiel turned away and headed straight for the door, which was now uncovered from any obstacles. He raised his arm and out came a brilliant white light, breaking the locks. 

 

"Who are you?" Dean demanded, holding out his blade in defense. 

"I am Castiel and I have come to rescue you." 

Dean scoffed, "Look pal, I don't need to be rescued." He turned around and began cleaning his knives. Castiel walked over to him, then placed a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean faced Cas, inside his apple green eyes, Castiel could see decades worth of pain and suffering.

"Just let me try," Castiel plead. Dean sighed and then placed the scythe in his hand back onto its tray. Before he could accept or deny his offer, Castiel placed both his index and middle finger on Dean's forehead, sending him into a deep sleep. Cas was about to leave when yet another demon came crashing through the door, along with another two who came crawling down from the top of the tower. r

In a panic, Castiel used what he could of his powers to take out the one in the doorway. Then, he used his wings to teleport up to where the remaining two demons hid. When they too were compromised, Cas gazed down to Dean's resting figure, all around him were even more demons. Each was hungry for the chance to deliver the infamous Winchester to safety and away the angel. It would be even more life threatening now, but Castiel had orders. There was no other choice. Cas swooped down, hovering just above the heads of the demons. His eyes scanned for Dean, fear began to creep into his body that maybe he was too late. Maybe the demons had already taken his mission. 

Then he saw it. Dean's soul still glowed brightly beneath the throng of wretchedness. Castiel reached down and grabbed whatever he could, pulling as hard as he could with him towards the sky. Below them, the demons howled in protest, for their prize was now in the hands of the enemy, quite literally. When the two reached the Earth Realm, Castiel carefully took Dean's soul into his hands. He placed it as tenderly as he could back into Dean's body, for in a few short moments, Dean Winchester would be back. Castiel smiled, as his job was now done. He closed his eyes and sent out a message to all angels. 

Dean Winchester is saved.


	5. A Deal With the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Suggestive Themes

In the dark navy sky above, stars twinkled like flashlights calling out to another world. However, the beauty of nighttime firmament was hardly a priority. Castiel paced the street carefully, his hands shoved into his pockets with his fingers clasped in fists. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Cas knew well, that it could only end badly. But then again, what choice did he have?

"Well if it isn't my favourite angel." 

Cas shut his eyes at the comment. This was no time for chats. Castiel turned and felt the bile rise in his throat. In front of him, stood Dean. His hair was tousled and messy, yet it fit him. Almost as if by accident, Castiel began to wonder if this was what a younger Dean looked like. He could picture him now, eyes shining, with not a care in the world other than keeping a look out for his little brother. Things were so different now. 

Dean's bottomless black eyes watched him carefully. Usually, Cas could read Dean like a book, but now, there was nothing, not even a trace of what used to be and that hurt like nothing else. "Hello, Dean." he murmured, his voice cracking. Castiel began slowly inching his way closer to the center of the crossroad where his old friend stood. 

A ghost of a smile appeared on Dean's lips. "You've obviously summoned me for something. What is it? World peace? A new trench coat? A kitten? Remember, you only get to choose one." 

"My grace." Castiel answered. 

Dean cocked his head eerily. "Your grace? That's a toughy, but I can get you some juice." He now stood only inches from Castiel. "However, since you don't quite have a soul to sell, we will have to compromise."

Cas swallowed, "What is it you want?"

Dean turned and began to walk in the other direction away from Castiel, slightly cracking the serious atmosphere. "You see, this is why I've always liked you so much, Cas," The angel raised a brow with confusion, but then Dean spun back around. "Constantly willing to cooperate." He finished, flicking his eyes back to their usual candy apple green. 

"I only want one thing in return." He paused for dramatic effect. Typical Dean, always going for the theatrics, Castiel thought. "I want you and Sam to stop trying to fix me." Cas froze, he knew he could never stop trying to save Dean Winchester. Never. Not until he stopped breathing. "I'm not broken."

Cas clenched his teeth together, debating within his mind over whether or not he should agree or not. There was not way for Dean to actually stop him. Was there? Castiel knew what he had to do. He was no use to Dean or even Sam without his angelic abilities. He was utterly useless. "Deal." he breathed. 

Dean's entire face lit up in triumph. "Now we're talking." Castiel took in a deep breath, then turned to walk away, before Dean appeared in front of him almost out of nowhere. "Where do you think you're going? You know we're not over." Dean smirked, "You haven't sealed the deal." 

Castiel frowned as he recollected how deals were made. He and Dean had to kiss, an offer he would have taken up without a moment's hesitation before Dean turned. But now, it wasn't same. Kissing him would only make Cas feel sick all over again. Nonetheless, it had to be done. Castiel hastily grabbed Dean by the collar of his black undershirt and kissed him quick and rough. 

"Woah, glad to see you're enthusiastic, but I'm no underclass Crossroad Demon. I'm a Knight of Hell and I'm gonna need a lot more than that," Dean practically wiggled his eyebrows in suggestion. 

Castiel's eyes widened. "You don't mean...?"

"Oh but I do." Dean replied. Before Castiel even had to process what was going on, they were inside an elegant penthouse suite, far from their previous countryside location. Dean's eyes immediately swirled into blackness as he awaited Cas' lead. As much as he hated to admit it, Cas found the sight utterly intoxicating. Dean's smirk, his open arms, everything. Realizing this, Castiel swallowed and pulled off his shirt. "Who knew an angel could be so scandalous?" Dean mocked, but he hardly had time to continue as Cas immediately pounced, using all the strength he had left to push Dean onto the bed behind them.


	6. Dibs

"In time, this one will be very important, so be very careful," instructed a cracking, yet kindly voice.

A young boy peered over his Father's arm at the little creation before him, his eyes glowing like sunlight filtering through a glass of whiskey, "What's it gonna do?"

"Save the world..." the older one replied. 

The boy turned to face him fearfully, "All by himself?"

The man shook his head with a distant smile, "Of course not. He'll have plenty of help along the way." He paused. "Who knows, maybe you'll help them too."

The boy's face sparkled with admiration and excitement at the news. "You should show him to the others, Father!" cried the child. 

The man tilted his head as if in mock thought. "You know, Gabriel, I might just do that." He smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. He began to walk off, only in order to call forth his other children to show them his prized creation. 

Within moments, hundreds of bodies, small and large, were crowded around in wonder."What is it you wish to show us, Father?" asked a rich voice, tinged with a thick British accent, belonging to a tall boy with blonde hair and tight features.

The Father took a deep breath and unveiled his creation. Many children looked on in awe, however some had nothing but pure envy burning in their eyes. "What will you call him?" questioned another voice, this time belonging to a small redhead with a wondrous expression. 

"The Righteous Man. Dean Winchester."

Only seconds later, a deep voice rung out across the entire area, disrupting the previous tranquility. "DIBS!" it shouted.

The crowd parted to reveal a small boy, with dark brown hair and the bluest eyes to ever blue. His little arms were raised into the air, the sleeves of his too-big trench coat bunched down to his torso in an awkward heap, but he looked more interested in the display before him than in his fashion choices. 

While all of his brothers and sisters simply stared, the boy's Father, instead began to let loose a deep and hearty laugh that seemed to shake the ground beneath them. When his laughter came to an end, the man had to wipe away the water streaming from his eyes, "He's all yours."


End file.
